


for every failing sun, there's a morning after

by endlessnighttimesky



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blowjobs, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:45:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlessnighttimesky/pseuds/endlessnighttimesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard has a sex bucket list, an oral fixation, he's addicted to coffee and wears sunglasses indoors. Frank doesn't know what made him say yes when he asked Frank to marry him. Maybe the fact that he's always willing to blow Frank no matter where they are - like, in an airport smoking lounge. (Or maybe it was just because he loves him.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	for every failing sun, there's a morning after

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _The World Is Ugly_ by MCR.

“American Airlines are sorry to inform you that flight AAL627 to Paris has been delayed for at least three hours,” a female voice announces over the speakers. A collective sigh is heard throughout the gate, and then people start shuffling around, forming a line in front of the desk to retrieve the food coupons the woman said they are entitled to.

Gerard groans and rolls over onto his side on the dirty airport floor, pushing his face into Frank’s soft stomach. “I hate everything,” he tells the swallows on Frank’s hips, voice muffled against Frank’s t-shirt.

“Here,” Mikey says, throwing Gerard’s Star Wars pillow at him. “Sleep.”

“Help me, Padmé,” Gerard begs miserably, twisting on the floor and lifting his head from Frank’s lap so he can put the pillow there and then slam his face into it.

“I don’t think Natalie Portman can do anything about your caffeine withdrawal,” Mikey says. “And neither can I – well, I _can_ , I just don’t want to. So don’t even ask.”

Gerard makes another displeased noise and rolls around again, so he can see Frank and tell him to give Gerard his hand.

“You’re disgusting,” Frank says, but he complies, bringing the hand that’s been resting on his fiancé’s chest up to his face.

Gerard takes Frank’s index finger in his mouth immediately, sucking contently on the digit. He makes a satisfied noise and smiles up at Frank, who can’t help but do the same.

“I’m gonna give you a chew toy as a wedding gift,” Mikey says, pointedly avoiding looking at his best friend and brother as they continue to be nauseatingly cute. He snaps a shot with his phone though, because Alicia’s making a photo album as a secret wedding present, and she’s gonna want this in there. Frank and Gerard haven’t noticed anything yet, and Mikey doubts they will, because they’re both complete spazzes with worthless attention spans, and they’ve only had eyes for each other since Gerard proposed anyway.

“You and your fucking oral fixation,” Frank says, but he doesn’t make any effort to pull his hand away, knowing that Gerard won’t hesitate to use his teeth to keep Frank’s fingers where they are.

“You didn’t complain last night,” Gerard grins, “when I – “

“If you finish that sentence, I will punch you,” Mikey says loudly, then buries his face his in hands. “Four months. I’m going to die.”

“You and Alicia were exactly the same, don’t even try,” Gerard says, throwing a marker at Mikey’s arm.

“That doesn’t make you less annoying,” Mikey says, turning his attention back to his phone. Alicia has sent him a photo of how the album looks so far, and it’s fucking fantastic. Frank and Gerard are gonna love it; Gerard especially, because after losing three years worth of memories to booze, he’s sort of obsessed with remembering important things. And since Frank is the most important thing in his life, a photo album documenting their relationship is a wedding present Mikey’s knows no one will ever top. Alicia has fucking great ideas.

Finally, Bob and Ray come back with the coupons, and then Gerard is off the floor faster than you can say ‘espresso’.

“Oh, sweet lord in heaven,” Gerard mumbles into his Starbucks cup as he gets back. He looks utterly ridiculous, with his sunglasses and the three layers of clothes, clutching a cup of coffee to his chest as if it’s a newborn baby.

“You look ridiculous,” Frank tells him, holding out a hand so Gerard can pull him off the floor, but Gerard refuses to take a hand off his coffee.

“I have coffee,” Gerard says happily. “Nothing you can say will hurt me.”

Frank rolls his eyes and stands up, pushing the cup down from Gerard’s face so he can kiss him. “Come on, I wanna smoke,” he says, tugging Gerard along to the smoking lounge around the corner of the gate.

He smirks when he notices it’s not the kind of room that has only a glass wall separating it from the rest of the gate; instead, there’s a door with a sign that states ‘You can smoke in here’, and there’s even a lock on it.

“And you call me disgusting,” Gerard says as he puts his coffee down on one of the high tables inside the room.

“I haven’t even said anything yet,” Frank says, lighting up a cigarette. He didn’t come here _only_ so he can say he had sex in the smoking lounge in gate 17 at JFK.

“And thank fuck for that, or you probably would’ve given Mikey an aneurysm,” Gerard says, lighting his own cigarette (although he steals it from Frank’s pack, and lights it with his lighter).

“Hey, I’m not the one who insisted on sucking my fucking hand in front of everyone in the gate.”

Gerard grins; he’d felt how Frank had started to fidget when he did that, and how he’d pulled his fingers out reluctantly when Gerard went to get coffee.

“Gotta take what you can get,” Gerard says, voice suddenly low, hot and dangerous. He crushes his cigarette out in the ashtray - they vowed not to ever do anything remotely sexual while close an open flame after that one time when Gerard’s hair caught on fire - before he backs Frank up against the wall. “Wouldn’t want to get arrested for indecent behavior before we get to Paris.”

“You just want to be able to say you fucked me in France,” Frank says.

“True,” Gerard admits, mouth ghosting over Frank’s temple. “But more than that, I want to be able to say that I’ve been in Paris with your dick in my ass.”

“Uh-huh,” Frank says, suppressing the moan he can feel is rising in his throat, because two can play this game, alright? If Frank loses every time, then that’s whole other thing. “What more do you wanna be able to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Gerard says loftily, lips moving along Frank’s jaw, over his neck. “That I sucked your dick at JFK.”

Frank’s breath hitches and he finally allows himself to moan. “Fuck, Gee.”

“I wanna be able to say,” Gerard continues, as if Frank isn’t totally tenting his jeans like a goddamn teenager, “that I choked on your cock in the smoking lounge in gate 17. That all the passengers on flight AAL627 to Paris could hear me beg for you to fuck my mouth.”

Gerard and his goddamn exhibitionist tendencies, fuck, they’re going to drive Frank out of his fucking _mind_. “Better get started then,” he says, “or all you can say is that you made your fiancé come without even touching his dick.”

“That one’s on the list too,” Gerard says. “Further down though, ‘cause it’s so easy, and I’ve already done it once.” Then he moves closer again, whispering in Frank’s ear, “All it takes is my dick in your ass, fucking you slow and so deep you almost can’t take it, and then you’re coming, harder than ever before. Isn’t that right, Frankie?”

“Yeah,” Frank breathes. He doesn’t manage much else because _fuck_ , he can almost see it in front of him, can almost _feel_ it; the tightness of the cuffs around his wrist, the silk of the blindfold over his eyes, Gerard’s sweaty hands pushing his legs up as he fucks into him with long, hard thrusts. When Frank had come it had been better than ever before, and there had been a few minutes where he couldn’t even talk, because his orgasm had sort of made him forget how to form words. When he’d finally regained his ability to speak, he’d told Gerard that he should just lay off the band and be a porn star instead.

“Nah, I prefer keeping you all to myself,” Gerard had said, and that had almost made Frank come again.

Now, with Gerard mumbling pure filth straight into his ear, he feels exactly like he did just before he’d come that time, from only having Gerard fuck him; he’s strung tight, like a guitar string about to snap, vibrating with that kind of energy he can only get rid of through an orgasm.

“Gee, please,” he begs, hands all over the place before they tighten in the fabric of Gerard’s jacket. He pulls him close for a kiss, letting Gerard swallow his moans as their lips slide against each other, wet and messy.

“You want me to suck your dick, baby?” Gerard asks. “Wanna choke me with your cock, come all over my face?”

“Yes, Gee, fuck,” Frank groans, tugging on Gerard’s jacket.

Gerard knows exactly what the gesture means, so he drops to his knees on the dirty linoleum, fingers instantly starting to work on unfastening Frank’s belt and pulling his zipper down.

“I have another thing on my list, too,” Gerard says, mouthing over the hard outline of Frank’s cock through his boxers.

“I can’t believe you have a list,” Frank says, words coming out strangled because Gerard’s breath is warm and damp over his dick, even through the fabric. “But can’t it wait ‘til Paris? Fuck, the tour hasn’t even started and I’m already missing real beds.”

“We won’t need a bed for what I’m planning,” Gerard says, somehow managing to sound both ominous and seductive at the same time. “And it’ll be before Paris, so it can’t wait.”

“But we’re – oh my _god_.” Frank reaches down and slaps the side of Gerard’s head. “Gerard. _No_. You’re not serious.”

“I am, though,” Gerard mumbles. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of Frank’s boxers while his hands move up to tug them and Frank’s jeans down over his hips.

“That’s – god. They’re never gonna let us on a plane again.”

“Only if they find us,” Gerard says. He holds Frank’s gaze as his tongue darts out for the first taste, bright hazel eyes staring up at Frank through dark lashes. “Which they won’t, because you’ll be quiet.”

Just the thought of having to be quiet makes Frank moan. “I hate you,” he says, voice strained and tight. “So much.”

Gerard grins; he loves the effect he has on Frank, loves how he can bring Frank to the edge like this, how sometimes he’s the one who creates the edge in the first place. It gives him a special sort of satisfaction, when they’re panting heavily beside each other afterwards, a feeling that can’t be recreated in any other place, at any other time.

“Even if I do this?” Gerard asks before he leans forward, letting the head of Frank’s cock slip past his lips. He sucks at it, hard, hollowing his cheeks and making sounds Frank used to believe only existed in pornography.

“Holy shit,” Frank pants, dropping a hand down to wrap in Gerard’s hair, raven strands winding themselves around his fingers, covering the ink.

Gerard looks up at him with hazy eyes as he sinks lower, taking Frank deep before he pulls back and off with a slick sound. His lips are red and swollen, wet with spit and Frank’s precome, making him look deliciously indecent. Frank is torn between pulling him up by his hair and kissing the shit out of him, and just thrusting forward to fuck his mouth.

In the end, it’s Gerard who makes the decision; he relaxes his jaw and wraps his lips around Frank’s cock again, one hand on the small of Frank’s back urging him to move, which Frank does as soon as Gerard hands over the reins. He goes easily at first, but eventually it becomes impossible to hold back and so he starts fucking Gerard’s mouth in earnest, thrusting hard and deep, making Gerard gag.

Gerard, meanwhile, breathes through his nose and relaxes his throat in the way it took him years to learn, but has now perfected the technique of. He tips his head back slightly, silently telling Frank to pull his hair, which he does as soon as he sees the plea in Gerard’s eyes.

“Oh god, Gee, I’m gonna come, oh my god – _oh fuck yes_ ,” Frank breathes, tangling his fingers tighter in Gerard’s hair and eliciting a moan from him as he comes down his throat. Gerard swallows everything, milking Frank’s dick until Frank's completely spent and sagging against the wall.

“I wanted you to come on my face,” Gerard complains, voice rough and used, but still high-pitched enough to be whiny.

“Didn’t wanna get jizz in your hair. Mikey’s already got enough to complain about when it comes to your hygiene,” Frank says. “Now shut up and come here.” He fists a hand in Gerard’s jacket and pulls him up. Gerard falls into Frank’s arms pretty much immediately, one hand reaching down between them to undo his jeans. Frank slaps them away once Gerard has his jeans and boxers pushed halfway down his thighs, preferring to do the work by himself.

Gerard presses as close as he can get while Frank jerks him off, quick and sloppy but so damn good, Frank’s hand providing perfect friction around his cock.

“Shit, baby, I’m not gonna last,” Gerard pants into Frank’s neck, breath hot over Frank’s tattoos. He’s been groping himself through his jeans for the past ten minutes, so if he doesn’t come during the next two, then he’ll count it as a success.

“Don’t have to, Gee, come on,” Frank mumbles, tightening his grip around Gerard’s dick as he thumbs at the head. He moves his hand a little faster, impatient to see Gerard come. “Come for me, babe, wanna see you.”

Frank’s words throw Gerard over the edge, and he slumps against him as he comes, wet and messy over Frank’s fingers.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Gerard says breathlessly, mouth pressed against Frank’s jaw.

“We did, though,” Frank says, sucking Gerard’s come off his fingers as Gerard watches him, tired but mesmerized.

“That’s one thing off the list then, I guess,” Gerard says.

Frank snorts. “ _I_ can’t believe you have a bucket list for sex”

Gerard shrugs. “Wouldn’t wanna die without coming three times in a row.”

“That’s on your list too?” Frank says as he tucks himself back into his jeans and then does the same to Gerard, since his orgasm apparently robbed Gerard of all gross motor functions. Frank sounds more surprised than he likes, but he figures that in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter. Gerard will probably never stop surprising him, and maybe that’s just for the better. Hell, Frank’s pretty sure it is, since a predictable Gerard Way wouldn’t really be a Gerard Way at all.

“A minor thing,” Gerard teases before he mumbles an absentminded, “Thanks,” as Frank buckles his belt. “Nothing complicated.”

“It sounds pretty complicated to me,” Frank admits, because what the fuck, is that even possible? Can people really come three times in a row? Twice sounds complicated enough, Frank thinks.

“You gotta have someone to do it for you,” Gerard explains as they walk out of the smoking lounge, both of them probably looking slightly indecent but neither of them actually caring. “Or else you’ll stop. Overstimulation and all that.”

“I would ask you what you’d do to me,” Frank says, “but then I’d probably mentally scar your brother by jumping you right here.”

“We’ve got the day after tomorrow off,” Gerard whispers, voice taking on that tone he always uses when he wants to get Frank all hot and bothered. “And in twenty-four hours we’ll have an entire hotel room to ourselves.”

Frank wants to make an annoyed comment, because Gerard is getting him hard in the middle of the fucking gate, but Mikey beats him to it.

“Oh. My. _God_ ,” he groans, burying his face in Ray’s shoulder.

“What?” Frank says, as if his fiancé totally didn’t just give him a blowjob in the smoking lounge.

Mikey makes another pained sound, then grunts, “Four months,” into the sleeve of Ray’s hoodie.

Ray pats his head comfortingly, feeling his pain. “At least we’re not in the van anymore.”

“Don’t remind me,” Mikey mutters.

“You love us,” Frank says, plopping down beside Mikey and hugging him, which, since it’s Frank we’re talking about, means that he’s more or less suffocating him.

“Ugh, I can still smell him on you,” Mikey says, untangling himself from Frank’s death-grip… uh, death-wrap? Either way, he pushes him into Gerard’s lap. “Take care of your fiancé before I am forced to kill him.”

“Stop harassing my brother,” Gerard says, pulling Frank close and enveloping him in his arms. He’s pretty much the only person who can make Frank sit still, since he’s also the only one who can kiss Frank whenever he wants.

Mikey doesn’t complain this time, because he knows it’s either his brother sucking face with his best friend, or it’s having his best friend pretty much attached to his side until they set foot in France. And on a rainy Monday at 11 PM, the choice is obvious.

Frank weaves his fingers together with Gerard’s, smiling into the kiss as he feels the warm metal of Gerard’s engagement ring between his fingers. He can’t help it; he’s about to go on tour with his best friend and his fiancé, the latter who will be his husband in less than five months. His life is fucking perfect, Frank’s is pretty sure of that.

“I love you,” Gerard mumbles against Frank’s lips, wrapping his arm around Frank’s back and holding him even closer.

Okay, _now_ it’s definitely perfect.


End file.
